the indian's bride.
33
Gently the bridal veil was bound
Amid those tresses fair,
Which hung, like rays of golden light,
So beautiful they were,
Amid those tresses fair,
Which hung, like rays of golden light,
So beautiful they were,
Around the maiden's sylph-like form,—
So full of perfect grace,
You'd rarely see so fair a form,
With such a lovely face.
So full of perfect grace,
You'd rarely see so fair a form,
With such a lovely face.
The high, fair brow, the loving lips,
The sad, yet tender eyes,
Whose color only could be matched
By heaven's own azure dyes.
The sad, yet tender eyes,
Whose color only could be matched
By heaven's own azure dyes.
And then the small fair hands were clasped;
The maiden knelt in prayer;
And her sweet voice went floating out
Like music on the air.
The maiden knelt in prayer;
And her sweet voice went floating out
Like music on the air.
But strange the contrast!—he who stood
To claim her for his bride,
A dark-browed Indian Chief was he,
The forest's fear and pride.
To claim her for his bride,
A dark-browed Indian Chief was he,
The forest's fear and pride.
